𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 | 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝑵𝑬𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪

𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘍𝘐𝘍𝘛𝘌𝘌𝘕

☼

"Ya know that aint gonna make it better..." Delaney's eyes lingered on the half empty bottle of whiskey that Abraham had been steadily drinking on and off since he'd found it in one of the car trunks. She could smell the strong alcohol from where she was walking beside him, having gravitated there after realizing that Rick and Daryl were both steadfastly ignoring her today. Abraham didn't ask questions. Abraham didn't care. He was just trying to drown his sorrows in his tiny bottle of drink.

His blue eyes snapped down to look at where she was slowly walking beside him, draped in the coat that was much too large for her, still. It was hot as fuck out there and for whatever reason Delaney did not look in the least bit bothered by it. She wasn't sweating and in fact, he was sure he'd seen her shiver a few times - a concerning thing considering the sweltering fucking heat.

"It's not for the thirst."

Delaney scoffed audibly at his bland answer, rolling her eyes in response, "I meant it aint gonna make ya feel better." Drowning ones sorrows wasn't the most helpful thing in the world, and did not fix anything in the long run. It may have made things better in the moment, but in a situation like theirs it was as dangerous as much as it was stupid. She didn't peg Abraham Ford as an idiot by any means, and yet, there he was still drinkin from the neck of the bottle, holding her eye contact the entire time as if proving he did not give a flying ass. He hummed lowly in his chest after the liquid had burnt it's way down his throat,

"Sure as dick doing somethin'."

"Ya...makin' ya stupid." She saw his amber mustache twitch at her grumbled insult, and a wheeze of a laugh escaped him. Again, she rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly at the stupidity of the situation. He lent a fraction closer to where she was walking, his bare arm brushing against her shoulder. He held out the bottle, shaking it and the contents into her view as if he figured she had been jealous. "Do ya want me ta die?" she groused, lifting her slightly bloodshot eyes toward him.

He sighed at this and pulled back both himself and the bottle of alcohol. He screwed the cap back onto the bottle and stuffed it into the bag he'd been carrying - her bag, and continued marching forward slowly beside her.

A few minutes passed and Abraham decided to make small talk - or at least what he considered to be. "Officer Rick up there, is mighty pissed today." It wasn't quite a question but not, not a question either. Her brows cinched a little, her eyes flashing down to the floor at the realization that he was, indeed, going to ask her about what had happened. She could tell that many of the others had noticed the strange vibe too, not just him. Carl had been sending her confused looks for almost the entirety of the morning, wondering why she wasn't walking up ahead with him like she'd done the day before.

Rick, since the Hospital, had been a little clingy. She supposed having been through Beth's death, and having been a part of that mad scramble to save Tyreese's life, had brought him closer to her. She wondered if it was a caretaker kind of thing, because, God, knew he liked to take care of them. It was a leadership thing - definitely. He had started to check in on her more notably during the past couple of weeks, and sometimes it became something of a speculation - not that it was anything more than a simple concern on his behalf.